Ulysses Returned
by rachel2205
Summary: A recorporealised Spike seeks out his Slayer, and finds her a little different from what he expected.


Title: Ulysses Returned

For: 1. lj comm"tamingthemuse" prompt: "castaway" (bear with me; I'll get to it!) and lj user"spikesheart" 's challenge "Spike/Buffy, classical music concert, delight!" I imagine this came out a little darker than you wanted… And it certainly wasn't a 15 minute fic! But I hope you like it.

Rating: PG

Warnings: possibly pretentious!

Word count: 1000ish

Spike stood at the harbour, staring out over the water. The tip of his cigarette glinted in the dark. The horizon still held a fading gleam of light, and the sea rippled out purple-black in front of it. Homer's wine-dark sea, Spike thought, and remembered the smell of chalk and slate and ink as he leaned over his school desk, laboriously translating Greek. But of course, this was Virgil's country, not Homer's… Although Spike did feel a little like Odysseus, returning after a long voyage. Home. To her.

Been years since he'd been to the Amalfi coast. Last time was in the fifties with Dru. Capri. All sophisticated starlets and late night parties, although Dru had done a little reading and had come up with the charming idea of living out some history. This had meant she'd floated around in Roman garb up at the ruins of Villa Jovis, and they'd tortured pretty boys and girls before throwing them over the cliffs, in the style of the Emperor Tiberius.

It worried Spike sometimes that thinking of these things could make him nostalgic, even though he wished he'd never done them. Having a soul was a complicated thing, and guilt wasn't always where it was supposed to be.

He wasn't here to think about this, though. He was here to find i her /i . He'd flown to Rome at first, having successfully charmed the pilot of Angel's private jet into taking him. He'd been barely able to sit still the whole flight, his skin prickling, his newly-reborn hands tapping an impatient rhythm against his thighs. When he'd got to Rome, though, the helpful people at Wolfram and Hart told him she'd gone. A little trip away with the sodding i Immortal /i . What the bloody hell was she doing with that wanker? Had she forgotten the cookie dough speech? It had been one of the worst Buffy speeches Spike had heard, but still, he'd rather she remembered it if the alternative was the smuggest git Spike had ever met.

So he'd taken a car from Wolfram and Hart's garage, ignoring a message from Angel to call him back immediately, and had raced along towards the Amalfi coast. It took the courage of the undead to make him able to compete with Italian drivers.

The car broke down in Amalfi, and so he left it by the sea, and headed into the hills to Ravello. Its medieval streets were cool and winding, his feet making the softest tap against the flagstones. At the well-named Belvedere of Infinity, Spike stood, one hand on the thin railing, and looked down as the cliffs plunged towards the sea. The fall was 1300 feet, he'd heard. He let a cigarette drop and watched it until its tiny orange glow was swallowed by the dark.

He'd picked up her scent as soon as he entered Ravello; he'd been thinking of her so long it wasn't a surprise how keen his senses were. But it took a while for him to find the courage to seek her out, and so he'd stood, staring down into a darkness so thick it might as well be infinity, wondering what she would say.

Moving at last through shadowy streets he sought her out. On a street two men's width wide he found a tiny church, glowing with light from within. Music poured from the open door. Verdi.

He stood in the doorway, seeing her at once. She looked so beautiful and so frail that he had to hold onto the doorframe for support. Her skin was stretched paper thin across her bones. She had the look of a sparrow besides the graceful bulk of the Immortal, who was immaculate as always in black tie. He held her hand, and Spike's jaw set as he saw her fingers captured in his. He thought about leaving, just slipping away, but then she lifted her head as if startled and saw him.

They stared at each other for the longest second, and then she stood and moved towards him. The Immortal's brow furrowed, and he half rose from his chair, but then he saw Spike. Spike wanted to give him a cocky smile or a defiant stare, but found he could not with Buffy looking at him, her body tissue paper and kindling. The Immortal's eyes narrowed in consideration, and then he sat back down with a rueful smile and an inexpressibly Italian hand gesture of amused acceptance. Spike never saw him again.

Spike stepped back out into the street and Buffy followed. They walked down the narrow street, barely a hand's breadth apart, not speaking. They walked through the town, past the Belvedere of Infinity, circling down into the valley and then to the sea. In all that time they did not speak a word. All Spike could hear was the steady beat of Buffy's heart, a drum in the dark.

Finally they stood on some nondescript beach, lit only by starlight. Buffy put back her head, closing her eyes. Even in the gloom Spike could see the shadows under her eyes, the exhaustion in her frame.

"I wish this was all there was," she said at last. "Sea, sand… I like the quiet."

"We can find somewhere quiet, pet. Somewhere no one goes, not ever, and there's only us." She was silent, and he wondered if he'd said too much. "We can be castaways, you and me," he added, by way of a joke. Buffy lifted her head back up and looked at him.

"I think I've been castaway too long," she said quietly, and a tear glinted in the starlight as it slid down her cheek. Spike put his arms around her gingerly, pressing her head against his chest, his hand sliding over her hair.

"Never again, love," he said, and held her as she wept.

In the distance a nightingale sang, and the stars set over the sea.


End file.
